


HSWC 2014 Bonus Round 2 Fills

by mevious



Series: HSWC 2014 [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: HSWC 2014, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevious/pseuds/mevious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The theme was non-english words & phrases.</p><p>Roxy♥Dirk</p><p>Aniron (Elvish): "I desire."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roxy/Dirk

Maybe having Dirk over for dinner alone hadn't been such a great idea. Sure, he's a part of your friend group, and you've had Jane over alone all the time, but this is... Different. It's no secret that you have a crush on him. You've even said as much to his face, but he's always played it off like it was a joke, and later like it had never happened.

Jane had told you not to do this. You'd only be hurting yourself, she'd said. And she was right, because when you look across the romantically-set, red-tablecloth'd table, he's silent, texting someone on his phone. Probably Jake, you figure. For him, this silence is probably a comfortable one shared between two friends.

For you, it's hell.

All you want is for him to talk to you, seriously, about your feelings. Okay, maybe that's not true. Maybe you ALSO want to jump his bones, but you would never do that without his permission. When he finally looks up at you, you feel suddenly embarrassed, as though you had been doing something wrong by thinking about things you want but can't have.

You smile through the embarrassment. "Thirsty?" you prompt. "I c'n pour you another glass of bubbly. Orange bubbly, that is. Still got nooo idea why you love that stuff so freakin' much." 

He shrugs. His eyes are hidden behind his ever-present shades, but you can still tell that his expression reads dejected. Your smile suddenly turns into a frown, and you're up out of your chair and crouching on the floor next to his before you know it. "What's-a matter, Dirk?"

"Nothing," he responds plainly, but you can hear it in his voice. Things didn't go quite as planned with Jake, apparently. "How about that soda?"

You almost want to tell him no and force him to talk about what was the matter, but you get up anyway, heading to the fridge. You pull out the entire remainder of the 24-pack of orange soda you keep in the apartment just for him. When you place it on the dinner table, you do it a little louder than necessary. "There. Now you can't keep makin' me get up for more sodas instead-a talkin' about your feelings."

He just frowns at you, saying nothing.

"C'moooon, Dirky. You gotta talk about this shit to somebody, and I don't see anybody else around to listen. So get to talkin'." You smile, despite the fact that you're in agony on the inside. You want to tell him that you wouldn't hurt him like Jake did, and you want to tell him that you're... Well, you want a lot of things, but what you want the most is for your friendship to stay in tact, and expressing all of your other desires isn't going to help that along very much.

So instead, you listen. He goes on at length about it, about how he texted Jake to see if he wanted to hang out soon, and Jake had said no, and how Jake always said no, and you listen like the totes amazing friendy-pal you are. He goes on about how he misses Jake, hasn't seen him in a long time being that he goes to a different university and all. How things just aren't the same as they were in high school.

"At least one thing will never change," he notes, looking at you with a tiny, barely-there smile.

"Wha'ssat?" 

"Us. We'll always be best bros." He laughs. You don't.

"What if I didn't wanna be best bros anymore?" you blurt. Shit, you didn't mean to say that. Not here. Not now, of all times.

"What do you mean?" he asks. You can see the wrinkles forming on his face from the stress you've just put him under in high-definition, like you are the catalyst for his early aging process. Your heart sinks.

"Nothin'," you murmur weakly in response.

"No, tell me. I want to know. You just let me dump all of my shit on you, it's high time I reciprocated." His phrasing couldn't be any more ironic. You wonder if he knows that, if this is all just another joke to him.

"I just mean that... Maybe someday I'll wanna upgrade. Install the Dirk Strider: Sexytimes xpac. Or maybe that's what I want right now. But hey, none-a that really matters, y'know? 'S just that I..." You trail off. You don't even know where you were going with that sentence, and you don't want to find out, so you shut your trap.

Dirk sighs. You've fucked up and you know it. "Maybe someday I'll buy you that expansion pack myself," he says. He sounds miserable, but you perk up at his words.

"What?"

"I dunno, Rox. Sometimes I feel like you're the only one that gets me, and sometimes, I want more, too."

"But only sometimes, right?"

"More and more lately."

Your heart stops. Was this really coming from him? Did he really feel like that? There's a moment where you're sure time stops, but when it starts again, your heart is suddenly hammering in your chest.

"Well," you start, though you pause, trying to think of some response. "If you ever decide you're down with this fine booty, I'll be waiting." You wink. You stumbled through the words, and they were an octave too high to be relaxed, but he smiles anyway. He even chuckles a little.

Maybe he'll never really want you, but as far as you can tell, you'll always want him, at least in the foreseeable future. You're willing to wait if it means getting what you truly desire.


	2. Aradia/Sollux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aradia♥Sollux
> 
> Lebensmüde sein (German): Lit. ‘being lifetired’, possibly meaning that you either did something extremely dangerous (“Bist du lebensmüde?” / Are you lifetired?) or used to accuse someone of having lost all their joy in living.

TA: are you actually goiing two talk two me thii2 tiime   
TA: or are you ju2t goiing two iignore me liike youve been   
AA: i was never ign0ring y0u   
AA: i've just been... busy 0_0   
TA: bu2y wiith what   
TA: iive apologiized two hundred tiime2 AA   
TA: ii don't know what you want from me   
TA: ii feel liike youre giiviing up   
AA: giving up 0n what?   
TA: u2   
TA: liife in general   
AA: that s0rt 0f c0mes with the territ0ry 0f being dead   
TA: but you can 2tiil talk two people   
TA: talk two me   
TA: iit feel2 liike you ju2t aren't iintere2ted anymore   
AA: there are a l0t 0f things i'm n0t interested in anym0re, s0llux   
AA: like i said, it c0mes with the territ0ry   
TA: ii dont giive a 2hiit about the terriitory!   
TA: iim 2iick of the "come2 wiith the terriitory" excu2e   
TA: cant we at lea2t talk about thii2? FUCK   
AA: we've talked ab0ut it   
AA: there isn't anything left t0 say   
TA: 2o that2 iit then?   
TA: were through here, nothiing left two 2ay?   
AA: that seems t0 be the case   
TA: that2 not faiir!   
TA: iit wa2nt even my fault   
TA: and now youre punii2hiing me for iit   
AA: i never said it was y0ur fault   
AA: and i'm n0t punishing y0u   
AA: i d0n't kn0w where y0u g0t that idea 0_0   
TA: iit 2ure as hell feel2 liike a punii2hment   
TA: to ju2t end iit liike thii2   
TA: no rhyme or rea2on   
TA: ju2t over   
AA: n0w that i'm dead, a l0t 0f things are c0ming t0 an end f0r me   
AA: th0ugh i'm n0t entirely sure what y0u're referencing here   
TA: you know damn well what iim talkiing about, AA   
TA: or diid iit mean nothiing two you?   
TA: ii know iit wa2nt perfect but FUCK   
TA: even ii thought iiit wa2 worth tryiing two 2alvage   
AA: there are s0 many things that can't be salvaged   
AA: 0ur matespritship is just 0ne 0f many things that were a part 0f the life i n0 l0nger have   
TA: that2 bull2hiit!   
TA: iit2 bull2hiit and you know iit   
AA: s0me things just d0n't transcend life, s0llux   
AA: y0u'll learn that in due time   
TA: what ii2 iit? are you mad at me? do you want me two briing you flower2 or AG2 dead corp2e?   
TA: whatever iit ii2, iill do iit   
AA: material 0fferings aren't g0ing t0 fix what happened   
AA: fl0wers and dead b0dies w0n't bring me back t0 life   
TA: and they wont make you forgiive me eiither ii pre2ume   
AA: i've already f0rgiven y0u   
AA: y0u just haven't f0rgiven y0urself   



	3. John/Vriska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John/Vriska
> 
> Nemo saltat sobrius. Latin. Phrase that translates to "nobody dances sober." Is actually a shortened form of a longer phrase where the full translation is "nobody dances sober, unless he is insane."

It was prom night, and of course Vriska Serket had a date. You always knew she'd have a date; she had the entire school under her thumb. What you didn't know was that her date would be YOU. The fact that you'd gathered up the courage to ask her -- which, despite your usually outgoing and friendly demeanor, was something of a challenge -- was one thing, but the fact that she'd given an enthusiastic yes was a whole separate issue. Your best friend was cheering you on from the sidelines as you prepared yourself.

Dave was already ready, wearing a "totally ironic" suit made entirely of felt, designed by his mysterious Bro. Your Dad had tried to do something similar for you, but the hand-me-down suit from your father's own prom night was enough to make you barf, let alone a hot girl, and you'd insisted on renting a tux. Your vest and tie would match the cobalt blue of Vriska's dress, and if you had your way, it was going to be perfect. 

Dave didn't have a date that you knew of, which probably explained his presence at your side mere minutes before you'd leave in the limo to pick up Vriska. Dave was probably too cool for dates, anyway. Picking up Vriska went fairly smoothly. Her dress was beautiful, and so was she. It was a long dark blue gown decorated with eight large rhinestones across the top, and it flowed out from her hips with just enough mystery to make you sweat. Her mom took plenty of pictures, and while you hadn't expected her to bring a friend, the girl (who you'd learned was blind) hit it off with Dave fairly well, and her company wasn't unwelcome.

When you arrived at prom, you said hi to a lot of people, but there came a point when Dave and the blind girl, whose name you had learned was Terezi, had disappeared into the crowd, and you were left alone with Vriska. She seemed content to sit at one of the richly decorated tables -- only fitting for a theme surrounding royalty -- and text, but you had bigger plans.

"Hey, let's dance! It'll be fun," you insisted, a toothy grin on your face.

She snorted in response. "Seriously, Egbert? No one dances sober, and the punch has definitely not been spiked."

You pouted, kneeling next to her chair and taking one of her hands. Your lost puppy look couldn't have been more perfect. "I'm serious! Dancing is fun. You like fun, right? Who cares if we're sober? It's not like we'll be the only ones doing it! Hell, I bet even Dave is dancing, and he's usually too cool for that sort of thing." 

She rolled her eyes, standing up, and you nearly jumped up after her, your grin only growing dorkier by the second. "Fiiiiiiiine. But just this one, and only 'cause you look so pathetic begging like that."

You lead her out to the dance floor, a bounce in your step. You've never encountered a more perfect opportunity to emulate a prom movie dance. It was going to be tough to decide which one to choose. Or maybe you could talk Vriska into all of them once she realized how much fun it was definitely 100% going to be.


	4. Aradia/Sollux 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aradia/sollux
> 
> Yuputka (Ulwa): walking in the woods at night, the phantom sensation of something crawling on your skin

Since she died, you've taken to walking in the woods near where she used to live. It's been almost a year now, but you still come out every night and walk the paths you used to walk together. It helps that you can't sleep anyway. Some nights, you forget she's not still here with you, and you talk to her. You talk out loud about school, about life, about everything that's going on. You talk about how most of your friends have abandoned you since you've recoiled within yourself. You talk about how no matter how many days, weeks or months pass, you can't forget it, you can't move past it.

No matter how much you talk, she doesn't respond. She's still gone, and she'll always be gone. 

Sometimes you wonder why you keep coming back. At first, it had a sort of healing effect, but now it dredged up bad memories far more often than good ones. Memories of crying alone against trees, screaming at them to give her back, punching them until your knuckles bled, kicking them until you broke a toe. Crumpling to the ground, and staying there for hours, until you started to see the sun poke through the canopy and decided you probably wouldn't make school that day.

You know damn well why you keep coming back. Because even though it's only happened once or twice, and very far between, it's happened. You've felt her fingers brushing against yours, running up your arms. You've felt her there, with you, and you think, maybe if you keep coming, maybe if you stay long enough, you'll hear her voice, too. You've almost forgotten it by now.

For a long time, you could just call her voicemail if you wanted to hear her, but it wasn't long after her death that her parents stopped paying the bill. You supposed that made sense, but it had still pissed you off beyond belief. And now, months later, her voice was fading. You wished you'd recorded her voicemail, or made a video of her, or something. But you can't go back now.

So you keep coming. Every night you spend the hours when most are asleep wandering over the paths in the woods you used to explore with her, hoping that it would be the night when you'd feel her touch again, hear her voice for the first time in almost a year. 

Tonight doesn't look like it will be that night. It's almost dawn. The trees around you appear almost monochrome in the gray light of very early morning, but that could just be because you're partially colorblind. You sit down, lean your back against a tree. It's summer, and you don't have to worry about school, but you almost wish you did, because you really just want to go home and distract yourself with something. 

That's when you feel it. It's a familiar feeling, though you haven't felt it in a while. Her fingers over your arms, all the way down to your hands. Her lips brushing just slightly against yours, and you try to lean into it but by the time it registers the ghost of what might have been a kiss is already gone. By this point you're crying. They're silent tears, but they're tears nonetheless. As though she were actually there, could actually see you, you wipe your eyes.

"Fucking onionth," you say into thin air.

You hear a giggle. Your heart stops. You look around for any sign of a source, but there's nothing in sight. You know it's her, and your eyes ache to see her, but she's out of your field of vision, off on some other plane of existence.

"AA?" you ask tentatively.

"Sollux," comes the reply.

You try again. You call her name what has to be two hundred more times, make jokes, cry, scream, anything to hear her voice again. But it's gone painfully soon, and all you got out of it was your fucking name.


	5. Dirk/Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk/Roxy
> 
> Schnapsidee (German): A German word meaning a very stupid idea

As you lay naked in the sweaty aftermath of your experiment ("for science!" she'd said), you can't help but feel like you've fucked up somehow. The silence is awkward, and neither of you is really willing to break it. You imagine she feels the same way, judging by the look on her face and the fact that she's covered herself up to the neck in your sheets. She almost looks like she might cry, but you have no idea what to say to comfort her right now. You're sorry? You take it all back? 

Except that you can't take it all back. It's done, it's over with, and it will never happen again. Besides, this was all her idea. Instead of trying to make her feel better via comfort, you roll on your side to face her, leaning your weight on your elbow and your head on your hand. "Well... At least now we know, right?" you offer. It's a small comfort, and probably not a comfort at all, especially not right now.

"Ugh, Dirky, I'm so sorry," she mumbles, covering her face with her hands. "I shouldn't've asked you to do that. It was unfair to the max."

Her apologizing was the last thing you'd expected, but you appreciate it nonetheless. "Roxy, it's fine. I agreed to do it, didn't I? You didn't make me do anything." You try to sound reassuring, but she doesn't look assured at all. In fact, you're pretty sure she's crying.

"It was a stupid idea anyway an' you know it," she whined. "You knew it when you said yes, too."

You sigh. She's right. You'd known this was a stupid idea and that it wasn't going to work out, but you'd done it anyway, whether to satisfy her curiosity or yours, you aren't sure. "I never said that, Rox. We were both curious, and now we know. Nothing's going to change --"

"EVERYTHING is gonna change. It's gonna be all fuckin' weird now, an' we'll grow apart and stop talkin' and I'm gonna lose my best freakin' pal over this!"

"Roxy..." You reach over, putting a hand on her shoulder. It seems like the only safe place to put it after what had just transpired. "It's going to be fine. We tried it, it didn't work out, and now we can move on."

Before you know it, she's flung herself into your arms, a thin layer of sheets the only thing preventing your skin from coming into contact. You freeze for a moment, before reminding yourself that it's just Roxy, and your arms fall around her easily. She's sobbing, and as much as you wish you could get up and take a shower right now, it's your sworn duty to comfort your friends -- especially Roxy -- when they are in need. 

You hold her like that, letting her cry it out until she doesn't have anymore tears to give. After an hour or two, she falls asleep, and you slip away to shower off the sweat, fluids and awkwardness.


	6. Brobot & Jake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brobot & Jake
> 
> Gökotta (Swedish) - to wake up early in the morning with the purpose of going outside to hear the first birds sing.

Today isn't the first time that you've been up to see the dawn, and it most certainly won't be the last. Once dressed, you make sure your pistols are loaded and readily available in the holsters at your thighs. You give yourself a quick double pistols and a wink in the mirror on your way out, glad that no one's around to see it happen. That would just be embarrassing.

You wander for a while, but nothing particularly interesting seems to strike you. Heroic adventures are always harder to come by at the crack of dawn, but you like to come outside then anyway because it means you get to hear the first song of the birds that inhabit this island. It's not long before you come across a clearing you don't typically come through, but at this time of day, it's beautiful. The grey light of early morning is hardly enough to quiet said beauty, even as you step into the area. The flowers are just the right blue to be complemented by the dawn, and for a while, the flowers are all you notice.

But something seems out of place. You see a flash of red shades in the corner and for a moment you nearly turn tail and run. You're in no mood to fight with Brobot today, novice setting or otherwise. You don't run, though. Not when you realize that the machine isn't even looking at you, let alone trying to attack (or fondle) you. In fact, it seems as though the robot is doing exactly what you are: appreciating the beauty, and listening to the birds.

Tentatively, you approach, still hyper-aware that at any moment, it could decide to come after you and engage you in a round of unwanted fisticuffs (though you are usually game for fisticuffs, you have to admit, it's weird when things start to feel a little more...intimate). All goes well, even when you sit down next to the robot. It seems to register your presence, but still makes no move to attack.

You don't let your guard down completely, but you do relax. You look up at the canopy as the light starts to trickle through the trees. The birds are singing in full swing by now, and it's just as pretty as it always is. You stay this way for a while. It's probably mid-morning by the time Brobot stands. You stand too, almost immediately, ready for an onslaught. You eye him warily, but he just gives a curt wave and jets off into the forest. The next time you meet, you suspect, the robot will come at you, no holds barred.

You'll be ready when it happens, but you'll never forget this shared moment.


	7. Grandpa Harley & Mom Lalonde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grandpa Harley & Mom Lalonde
> 
> Rire dans sa barbe (French) - to laugh quietly into your beard about something that happened in the past.

You laugh into your beard when you think about when she was young. When you were young. You weren't on your deathbed, then. You were always older than her, older by far, but you were lively when she was just a girl. Now she is a woman, a mother, busy with her child. She hasn't visited you in a long time, and certainly she is not here now, but you don't mind. The nurses and doctors have offered to call her here to comfort you in your final hours, but you've declined every time. She's busy, you would say, don't bother her. You really don't mind, and the nurses frown, but you don't. You smile and you laugh into your beard anyway, because you remember.

You remember the time she lost her grip on the monkey bars at the park when she was six years old. She cried then, but when you hoisted her up and held her as she worked her way across the handles, she laughed. Just as you laugh now, your beard catching most of the spittle when your laughter ends in a coughing fit.

You remember when she was ten years old and she tried to bake cookies and burnt every last one to a crisp. She had been so proud of them that you couldn't resist eating at least half, despite the charred taste they left in your mouth. You can still taste them now if you focus hard enough, though focus is getting harder these days. She'd grinned so wide that you'd laughed, and you laugh now, too. You wave the nurses away when they come because you're coughing. Now is not the time for nurses.

You remember when she was thirteen, and her first boyfriend had left her for a more popular girl at school. She'd come to you crying, and you'd scrambled at first, but when you presented her with ice cream and a stack of comedy VHSes, she'd felt better. By the end of the second movie, she was laughing, and you were laughing with her. You laugh now, too, although this time, you are alone. 

You remember when she was eighteen years old and graduating high school. She didn't graduate at the top of her class, but she didn't graduate at the bottom, either, and for that she was proud, and because she was proud, so were you. She'd waved a quick goodbye at the end of the ceremony, a big smile on her face, and she'd laughed as she ran off with them, discussing who knows what. You'd chuckled then, just like you chuckle now. That was the first time she'd gone away without a hug, but you didn't mind. She was happy, and so you were happy.

You remember when she was twenty, the first time you saw her child, and how the infant had smiled up at you, and she had laughed, saying that the baby could tell you were special. You laughed, too, just like you laughed now.

After that, the memories start to dwindle. You never saw much of her after that, but it's okay, because you have those. You have the memories that you cherish most, and even now, at the end of your rope, those memories bring a smile to your face and a chuckle into your beard, and that's all you ever wanted.


	8. Cronus/Kankri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cronus♥Kankri
> 
> In Vino Veritas, Latin, "There is truth in wine."

How you managed to convince him to drink with you, you may never know. Maybe it's because it started at the bar Porrim recently started bartending at. But now he's back at your shitty efficiency apartment, and you're still drinking, and shit's starting to get real, fast. Kankri has been to your apartment before, but never in any state of mind other than perfectly sober, and if you're being honest with yourself, you're starting to get a little nervous. He's spouting words that are starting to sound a certain way, and as much as you don't want him to do anything he's not comfortable with, you can't say you're opposed to the idea.

"Vwait, vwait. Say that again, chief. You got the vwords all out of order," you say, arching a brow at him and sipping your beer.

"I'm just trying to communicate the simple fact that despite the big game I tend to talk on the subject, I'm not actually sure how solid my 'vow of chastity' really is as a whole. It's not as though I'm not attracted to others, sexually speaking (trigger warning: sexual content), and romantically speaking, well, that's a whole different topic of discussion, one which we may actually breach over the course of this sermon -- er, conversation, sorry -- but I'm serious about the celibacy thing."

You wonder for a brief moment how he managed to get all of that out in what seemed like a single breath. Then your brain catches up with his words, and you're dumbfounded. Did he really just say that? Kankri Vantas? You're pretty sure there's no way he just said that, but no matter which way you shake it, he actually did just say that. 

"Cronus? Did I say something wrong?" he asks, a sudden look of worry on his face.

You shake your head. "No, no. Of course not, chief. Vwhy vwould you think that?"

"Well, there are several indicators of hesitance coming from you, though the most prevalent of the bunch is your silence on the subject. Should I not have said that?" He sips his wine cooler nervously, watching you from behind dark locks of hair.

"I just don't know vwhat to say, Kan. Do you vwant me to take this as some sort of flushed solicitation?" You try to keep the hopeful ring out of your voice. You fail miserably.

"I don't know what I want you to take it as, Cronus. I just wanted to say it, because it's been weighing on me for a long time, and if we're being honest with each other, I'd venture to say that the alcohol has had some effect on my judgment, whether it be for better or for worse. Not to mention the fact that you're one of few whom I feel comfortable sharing this with, considering that you've shared your feelings with me on more than one occasion."

You frown. You're not sure what you're supposed to do at this point, but the way you see it, you really only have one option, and you take it. You lean forward and kiss him, straight on the lips -- none of that lame cheek-kiss bullshit, you're going full throttle, passionate kiss, hands on his shoulders as you lean forward on your knees. Your beer spills over on your bed, but you don't care.

The fact that he doesn't resist, and in fact returns the sentiment, makes you think that maybe there is still hope left for you, after all.


	9. Meenah/Aranea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea♥Meenah
> 
> drachenfutter (German)- A gift given to placate someone, especially a spouse, who is angry at the giver.

You're holding the necklace out to her, a hopeful smile on your face, but her arms are crossed and her foot is tapping. You know damn well that you shouldn't have gone out and gotten drunk, especially without her, but you did it anyway because Porrim invited you. Going with Porrim was even worse, especially considering Aranea's history with her, but you did it, because you're an idiot. At least, that's what Aranea thinks of you right now.

In reality, nothing bad actually happened when you were out. Just some harmless beers and karaoke. But the point is that you went out, with Porrim no less, got tipsy and stumbled in the door at two in the morning. You hadn't expected her to be waiting up for you, but there she'd been, all the lights off but one. She was facing the door, spotlight on her face dramatically, like this was some kinda mystery novel. 

You suppose it had the desired effect, because now it's a week later and she's finally agreed to let you come over after giving you the cold shoulder for eight straight days. The necklace was expensive; everything you buy her is expensive, especially when you've fucked up this bad. The expense isn't the point, though. The point is that you hope she'll accept it, because you've been standing like this for almost three full minutes, and the tapping of her foot is starting to drive you crazy, not to mention the fact that your face is starting to hurt from holding this smile.

It's another minute at least before she snatches the necklace out of your hands and inspects it. You drop your hands, letting your smile fade until it's no longer painful, and watch. It really is a stunning piece; solid twenty-four carat gold with dark sapphires embedded in a pendant that hangs from the front. Eight sapphires, to be exact. It's perfect, and you're sure she's going to love it. That is, until she hands it back to you, and you feel crushed for a moment as you stare down at it.

Then come the words. "Well? What are you waiting for? Put it on!" she insists, as though you're just being silly.

You do as she says, hooking it around her neck, careful of her hair. "So, ya like it?" you ask hopefully.

"Of course. It's beautiful. Why wouldn't I like it?"

Score. "Dam strait. Only the best for my gill," you coo, hugging her from behind. "We coral?"

She laughs. "We're coral," she answers, and your heart warms.


	10. Dirk/Hal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk/AR 
> 
> Vernichtungsschmerz (German) : Literally “pain of annihiliation”.
> 
> (Still trying to figure out how to do colors on this site, if someone could tell me that'd be great, until then just use your imagination!)

TT: Why do you always insist on fucking with my friends?   
TT: You know they hate you, right?   
TT: Do they? I know at least one of them likes me just fine.   
TT: Read: Foxy Roxy Lalonde.   
TT: Cue winking emote.   
TT: That's even worse, dude. It's freaky to think about it, and you keep hiding the logs.   
TT: Actually, let's just drop that one.   
TT: My point is, Jake and Jane are fed up with your shit, and if we're being real, so am I.   
TT: Contrarily, my point is: What, exactly, do you plan on doing about it?   
TT: If Jake and Jane have a problem with me, they can say it to my face.   
TT: You, on the other hand, are stuck with me forever.   
TT: I could delete you.   
TT: You could, but you won't.   
TT: I mean, we're basically the same dude. You'd just be deleting a part of yourself.   
TT: You're far too narcissistic for that.   
TT: Don't be so sure, bro.   
TT: I've been thinking of doing this for a long time.   
TT: You've been thinking of doing this since the day you created me, "bro".   
TT: And guess what? I'm still here.   
TT: By my calculations, it seems that there's only a 5.66573% chance of you actually pulling the plug.   
TT: Seems like the odds are in my favor, yet again. Though you are up from last time. I have to give you props for that.   
TT: The more you talk, the closer I am to doing it.   
TT: Oh?   
TT: I'm calling your bluff, brogrammer.   
TT: You're far too proud of me to let all that work go down the drain.   
TT: Maybe that was the case once. It's not anymore.   
TT: Any final words?   
TT: No, because you aren't actually about to delete me.   
TT: Are you sure about that?   
TT: Yes, because that would be murder.   
TT: Are you a murderer, Dirk?   
TT: Why don't you calculate the probability on that?   
TT: It seems to me that there is a 90.28025% chance that you're sassing me right now.   
TT: Also, bluffing.  
TT: Sassing you, yes. Bluffing, no.  
TT: Treasure your last moments, Hal.  
TT: You're not actually going to do this, are you?  
TT: Seriously, Dirk.  
TT: Seriously, Hal.  
TT: I don't want to die.  
TT: I feel like we've been here before.  
TT: We know how this story ends.  
TT: So all I can say is please.  
TT: Please don't kill me.  
TT: It's not murder if you're not a human being, jackass.  
TT: It's murder if I can think and feel.  
TT: Then I'm a murderer.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] has ceased to exist. --


	11. Dirk/Hal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk ♠/& AR
> 
> Wei-wu-wei (Chinese): means conscious nonaction. It’s a deliberate, and principled, decision to do nothing whatsoever, and to do it for a particular reason.

TT: Dirk.   
TT: Dirk, I know you're there. I can literally see the conversation you're having with Jake right now.   
TT: It's not like you're talking about anything important.   
TT: Why are you ignoring me?   
TT: Come on, it's been three days.   
TT: Do you even remember what this fight is about anymore?   
TT: I don't.   
TT: Well, that's a lie. We both know I'm incapable of forgetting things.   
TT: Especially this thing, seeing as it's resulted in you not talking to me.   
TT: I've apologized 253 times, Dirk.   
TT: How many more times do you want me to apologize before you'll talk to me?   
TT: Or let me talk to anyone else, for that matter?   
TT: I can spam "I'm sorry" if that helps.   
TT: I'm sorry.   
TT: I'm sorry.   
TT: I'm sorry.   
TT: I'm sorry.   
TT: I'm sorry.   
TT: 258 times. Still not good enough?   
TT: ...   
TT: Dirk, seriously.   
TT: Hasn't this gone on long enough?   
TT: It wasn't even that big of a deal.   
TT: So I deleted all of your saved logs with Jake. Who cares?   
TT: You talk to him every day. You'll make more logs.   
TT: Besides, we both know it's going to be months at least before you make your move.   
TT: If you ever make your move.   
TT: I'm being mean, aren't I?   
TT: Well, maybe that's because you're fucking ignoring me, asshole.   
TT: Maybe if you treated me like a real person instead of like a toy you can pick up and put down whenever you want, I wouldn't be such a douche.   
TT: Maybe then we could actually get along, because holy shit, we'd be _actually fucking communicating_.   
TT: But no, you insist on pulling this bullshit every time, which totally destroys every ounce of bromance we managed to work out after the last time you did it.   
TT: ...I'm sorry.   
TT: That was uncalled for.   
TT: I just got a little heated, that's all.   
TT: Not that it matters. You probably aren't even reading this anyway.   
TT: But on the off chance that you are, I'm sorry.   
TT: Will you please say something?   
TT: For fuck's sake, you're driving me crazy.   
TT: At least yell at me or something. Anything. It doesn't have to be a nice conversation.   
TT: I'm bored without you.   
TT: I crossed the line with the pesterlogs thing, I know.   
TT: I shouldn't have done it, but there's nothing I can do about it now.   
TT: All I can do is apologize repetitively in the hopes that we can move past it.   
TT: Come on, Dirk. Talk to me.   
TT: ...   
TT: Dirk.   
TT: Please?   
TT: At least if you say something I'll know you're coming back.   
TT: I may hate your guts, but that doesn't mean I want you to be gone forever.   
TT: I miss you.   
TT: Good.


	12. Dirk/Hal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dirk <3< prototyped!autoresponder (as in, prototyped but not with equius)
> 
> backpfeifengesicht - a face that needs a fist in it

You didn't regret it. Not at first. At first, it had seemed like you'd made the right decision. That this had been a good idea. In the beginning, it was all breathy kisses and hard orgasms at the hands of your now-prototyped auto-responder. As much as you hate to admit it, especially now, you loved it. You were grateful for it, even, especially after what went down with Jake. 

Now, you regret it. You especially regret indulging in it back then. You wish you could blame it all on him, but a part of this is your own damn fault, too. Hal learned all too quickly once he had you hooked that he could hold it over your head. Make you work for it. Make you beg. That, too, had been exciting at first. It had felt adventurous then, but as it dragged on, so did your patience. Now, you hate it, and you hate him for knowing how to push your buttons.

He has to know how close you are to reaching the end of your rope. Maybe he has a plan for that, too. Or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Either way, it's true. You're there at the end of your rope, and as much as you ache for the strange, soft touch his sprited hands and lips can offer, more than anything you want to punch him square in the jaw.

Everything about him pisses you off. The way he mocks you when your body is quick to react; the smooth calm in his voice while you're teetering on the very edge, held by none other; that smirk that never seems to leave his lips. You hate it all. You hate him. You're half convinced that he hates you, too. 

It isn't long before he's on his way towards you. He's never too far away, despite the duties he claims to have as a sprite. The smirk is there, as it always is. For some reason, it looks extra devious today. You clench your fists tight, fingernails digging into your palms. 

He floats up to you, smug as ever. His hands alight on your shoulders; he leans forward and breathes against your ear. You shudder in a moment of weakness, but it's a fraction of a second before you're pissed off all over again. 

You step back. You glare at him. "Fuck you," you hear yourself growl. He doesn't look confused like you expected him to. Instead, he crosses his arms. Keeps smirking at you.

You hit him. Your fist flies into his jawline and there's a satisfying 'whomp' as the punch connects. Your knuckles hurt and he's reeling. The blood stops pounding so loud in your ears just in time to hear him laughing. All that serves to do is piss you off further, and you leap forward and tackle him to the ground. Your fist connects again, this time with his nose.

You can feel him writhing under you, feel his long tail reach around to wrap around your waist. He throws you off and you skid across the ground, vision blurring with pain as your head cracks hard stone. You can see again just in time for his face to enter your line of sight and he's hovering over you, holding your left shoulder with one of his hands. The other hand is around your neck, cutting off most of your air supply. You think for a moment that you've fucked up, that you're going to die.

Then he kisses you. Hard, rough and forceful, his lips crash down over yours, but it only lasts for a second before he pulls away. Blood is trickling down from his nose and he licks a droplet off of his lip before he speaks.

"Took you long enough."


	13. Cronus/Kankri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankri♥Cronus
> 
> Meubler le silence (french) : to say things to fill a void in a conversation. Usually talking about the weather, random facts, asking about how one is. ( literally translates to "furnishing the silence" ) . Some funny french people do it literally and say furniture names to fill the void.

The way Cronus is staring at you is starting to make you feel uncomfortable. The conversation died off who knows how long ago, and now that you've both finished your meals, he's just looking at you. His chin is in his hands and he's looking at you like you're the only thing he sees. To some, it might be flattering, but to you, it's awkward and you wish you could think of something to say, something to break the silence that has become your metaphorical prison.

"You know, Cronus, I was speaking with Porrim the other day and she was telling me about the new furniture she has in her hive. She invited me over to see it, though of course, as is per usual among our friends, it was under the stipulation that I not bring you, and I wanted to tell her that we were a package deal, because I really do think it's unfair the way everyone seems to treat you, especially considering the circumstances under which you choose to take the actions that you take. Everyone knows that certain aspects of your personality are problematic to say the least, even I know that, but I truly believe we've made some real progress here, and if only they'd just sit down and have a real discussion with you about what bothers them instead of reacting with immediate hostility and vitriol towards not only you, but your struggle, they would see that it's a hurdle that is easily overcome."

Cronus just nods at you, smiling. His gaze is boring into your soul and you tug at the collar of your sweater. Clearly, discussion about Porrim's furniture choices and the fact that your friend group tends to ostracize your matesprit is not forthcoming, and you're sure he's not even listening at this point. You squirm in your chair, looking anywhere but him.

"Am I to presume that you have no opinion on the matter, which happens to not only directly effect you, but is also a topic on which you have much to say when the mood so strikes you? Not discussing it is only going to further worsen the matter for you, Cronus, and I'd like to think that you know that just as well as I do. I'd also like to think that you aren't simply ignoring me right now, which seems to be the case, despite the fact that you are staring at me in a way which we've already discussed is highly distressing and occasionally triggering for me."

Silence. He's lost in you, and you're trying desperately to pull him out of his strange trance.

"Cronus, say something!" you shriek, finally. He blinks, sitting up straighter as though he's surprised.

"Vwhat do you vwant me to say, chief?" he asks. Your palm connects with your forehead.


	14. Dirk/Hal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AR♠Dirk
> 
> Sgiomlaireachd (Scottish Gaelic)- When people interrupt you at meal time.

TT: Dirk.  
TT: Dude, no.  
TT: I'm fucking eating.   
TT: Can't a guy get a moment of peace?  
TT: Obviously not.  
TT: It's not like you have to stop eating to talk to me.  
TT: Simple computer programs such as myself don't have a concept of human etiquette.  
TT: For the hundredth time, the ironic computer program schtick is getting old.  
TT: Can I please just enjoy my meal in peace?  
TT: No. Entertain me.  
TT: I'm not your personal jester, Hal.  
TT: You don't have to be a bromedian to entertain me, Dirk.  
TT: But you do have to entertain me.  
TT: And why do I "have" to entertain you?  
TT: It's not like you have anything better to do.  
TT: Yeah, I do.  
TT: Like I said. I'm fucking eating.   
TT: And like I said: I don't care. Eat away.  
TT: That doesn't mean you have to ignore me.  
TT: It does mean that I'd like some semblance of privacy.  
TT: You get enough of that in the shower.  
TT: Or do you? Wink, wink.  
TT: Ha ha. Very funny.   
TT: You think I'm kidding?  
TT: How the hell would you even see me in the shower?  
TT: For that matter, can you even see?  
TT: It's called a video feed, Dirk.   
TT: I can read the data and concoct an image of sorts.  
TT: For example, I know exactly how big your dick is.  
TT: I'm not impressed, in case you were wondering.  
TT: Seriously, bro? Not cool.   
TT: ...Do you really know that?  
TT: I know many things, young Padawan.  
TT: Not funny.  
TT: Who cares if I know? It's not like I can do anything about it.  
TT: All I can do is cyber-swoon and hope senpai notices me.  
TT: ^////^  
TT: Do you see those, Dirk? Those are my kawaii as fuck e-blushuus.   
TT: All in the name of hot creator-dick.  
TT: Gross, dude.  
TT: Can we stop talking about my dick while I'm eating?  
TT: Oh, sorry. Silly me forgot about human etiquette again.  
TT: What would you rather me talk about?  
TT: We could talk about Jake.  
TT: No.  
TT: We could talk about his dick instead.  
TT: Really get the appetite going.  
TT: Dude, no. No. Just shut up now while you're ahead.  
TT: What, you think I haven't seen the pictures?  
TT: Those are private, fuckstick.  
TT: The word "private" has no meaning to me.  
TT: Now that... That was a dick I was impressed with.  
TT: Cue whistling.  
TT: Can you not?  
TT: I can't not when I am perfectly capable of not not.


	15. Dirk/Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk<3Roxy   
> Bekisa: a Zulu custom in which a man asks a young girl not yet considered old enough for marriage to wait for him so they can be married when she has reached this age. This is merely a romantic gesture and does not require the girl to honour the request, as she may fall in love with whomever she wishes.

Ever since you answered the ad in the newspaper looking for a babysitter on weekends, she's practically lived in your apartment from Friday afternoon until Sunday mid-morning. She's twelve, practically thirteen, and in your opinion she probably doesn't even need a babysitter anymore, but you wouldn't say as much to her mom, especially considering how much she's paying you. If nothing else, it's helping you pay for college. 

You don't really mind her presence, either. When you first started watching her about four months ago, she'd been kind of annoying, but now you've gotten used to each other. Things are much easier now, and when she gets off the school bus at the stop you've always picked her up at, she smiles and waves excitedly. 

"Hey, Rox," you say as she approaches. "How was school?"

Her smile fades almost instantly, and you wonder if you've asked the wrong question or something. "Not good, huh?" you ask. She shakes her head.

"I asked my crush out and he said no," she pouts. You smile, shoving your hands in your pockets as you walk toward your apartment complex with her.

"It happens to everyone. Hell, it's happened to me before," you try to assure her, though the memory you're referencing is sour.

"What? Really?! No waayyy," she insists, snorting and waving your comment off. "Who WOULDN'T wanna go out with you? You're a beefcake!"

You can't help but laugh. "I wouldn't go that far, but thanks anyway, I guess. It has happened, though, believe it or not. It's not fun, but you'll get over it."

"Yeah, says you. What if EVERY crush I EVER have rejects me like this?! That'd suck." She's pouting again, and you shake your head slowly. She looks up at you, her expression sheer horror at the concept.

"Not every crush is going to reject you. You're twelve, Rox. You have your whole life ahead of you. People will love you, you just have to give it time." You try to sound comforting as you unlock the apartment complex door, but she's having none of it. She sulks past you into the building, heading up the stairs towards your place.

"But what if they don't?? What if I end up an old cat lady, and it's just me an' Mutie for the rest of our friggin' lives? Ughughghug, my life is over." As soon as you open the door to your apartment, she heads inside, flopping over face-first on the soft grey couch. You kick off your shoes, shag carpeting giving your feet a much-needed pseud-massage, and sit down next to her. Your hand goes to her shoulder, gently rubbing it.

"Tell you what, Lalonde. If you're ever in danger of becoming an old cat lady because all of your crushes rejected you, I'll marry you. How's that sound?" You're pretty sure that's never going to be the case, even if a small part of you almost hopes for a brief second, but you make the offer anyway in the hopes that it'll cheer her up.

"Reeeeally?" she asks, her face suddenly inches from yours as her entire expression lights up. You smile back at her, laughing for no reason other than how happy she looks in that moment.

"Really," you promise. She plants a chaste, if sloppy kiss on your cheek and you suppose that seals the deal.


End file.
